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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24919054">The healing</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/CastielsCarma/pseuds/CastielsCarma'>CastielsCarma</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Fantasy, FicFacers2019, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Prince Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 04:53:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,767</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24919054</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/CastielsCarma/pseuds/CastielsCarma</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Prince Dean Winchester of Laren is on his way to the neighboring kingdom of Angelus to sign a treaty that will hopefully end the two kingdoms' constant fights and skirmishes over the borders. He is known to be brash and jovial but he does his duty and protects his family. When you're a prince, the entire kingdom is family. The journey goes smoothly until Dean and his entourage encounter a tree on the road.</p>
<p>And soon, another fight will ensue.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Fic Facer$ 2019</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The healing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimenem/gifts">kimenem</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi lovelies.</p>
<p>This is my pinch-hitter fic for Ficfacers 2019 and the lovely kimenem. They wanted hurt/comfort. This is my first foray into that trope. Thank you for being a part of the Ficfacer 2019 auction! I hope this fic did your prompt justice.</p>
<p>Thank you for reading. All comments and kudos are greatly appreciated. I hope you enjoy! &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dean Winchester looked out the window of the coach but the same view greeted him as hours before. Traveling through the Stull forest was an eternal ordeal. Huge oaks with their giant canopy shielded the sun – the largest forest in the entire kingdom – but it was also a resting place for numerous soldiers. The battle for Laren and its borders had been ongoing since Dean's own father was young and the ground had been dry, soaking up the blood of the fallen greedily.</p>
<p>Dean scoffed and removed his gloves. He'd much rather be riding his own horse but his father had insisted on protocol and that proper decorum be followed. The coach was comfortable but considerably slower than a simpler party would've been. He was accompanied by ten soldiers of his private guard and six of the Kingsguard. Not that Dean thought that it spoke of any fond feelings that his father harbored for him, rather that the outcome should be protected.</p>
<p>Wind ruffled Dean's hair, a welcome reprieve from the warmth of the sun. The coach shielded him from some of the sun's intense heat but not enough. </p>
<p>He unbuttoned the top button on his ivory-colored tunic. If Bobby, his old tutor would see him now, he'd throw a fit. Not that he was much for decorum on the castle properties – much to king John's dismay – but he was a stickler for rules and protocol in public. Dean would have debated with him if riding in a coach would be considered public area and Bobby would have quoted some obscure rule from the Men of Letters archives and the matter would be settled. Bobby was a man to follow the rules to the letter. In public.</p>
<p>Dean shook his head in amazement, a smile on his lips. Over three decades of knowing the man and he still hadn't figured him out. A hand went to his inner pocket where the letter was hidden. It was not really needed, Dean knew all the points by heart and he also knew Angelus' demands but still, it provided comfort. </p>
<p>The slow lull of the coach traveled through Dean, urging his body to relax. Dean glanced at the sun, and knew he had hours before arriving to the kingdom of Angelus. And even then he would be early. He didn't have any intention of even making Michael Angelus think that his arrival was an insult in the slightest. Dean was known to be brash, jovial and stubborn but he took care of his family. And being a prince meant the whole goddamn kingdom was his family. There would be no more skirmishes and wars if Dean could put a stop to it. </p>
<p>The rocking of the coach continued, soothing his mind and thoughts. Dean sighed and closed his eyes, letting dark oblivion claim him.</p>
<p>Dean woke up with a start, alarm flooding his body. Something was off.</p>
<p>The coach was standing still. </p>
<p>Dean poked his head out of the window and addressed the coachman. “Samandriel? Something wrong?”</p>
<p>The young man glanced down at the prince, shaking his head. “It appears there's an obstruction on the road, Your Highness.”</p>
<p>Frowning, Dean looked forward but couldn't see anything. “What kind of obstruction?”</p>
<p>“From here it looks like a fallen oak tree, your Highness.”</p>
<p>Dean sighed. He really didn't want to spend any more time in the cursed coach. “I assume they have tried to go around the tree?”</p>
<p>“Yes, Your Highness.”</p>
<p>Some of the guards were already upfront, their horses surrounding the tree. </p>
<p>Dean called out. “Cain!”</p>
<p>A huge man appeared, wearing armor made of smooth leather and chain mail. He gripped his sword and nodded slightly. His eyes narrowed, a fire burning within that made even the longest-serving staff in the castle nervous. “Yes, Dean?”</p>
<p>Dean smiled. Cain was never one to follow the royal protocol. That was one of the reasons Dean liked the man. “What's the plan?”</p>
<p>“I say we chop the tree to pieces.”</p>
<p>Dean blinked. It was an oak tree, sturdy and old. He glanced at Cain's huge arms and the murder in his eyes. If anyone could chop up a tree using only a sword it would been Cain.</p>
<p>“What does the others say?”</p>
<p>Cain scoffed. “That we should lift the coach.”</p>
<p>Dean shook his head. “We can't do that, that's plain foolishness. We leave the coach here and just take the horses. That's much faster than – “</p>
<p>Cain shoved Dean inside the coach with an open hand. “Ambush, Your Highness. Get down!”</p>
<p>Dean could hear swords being drawn and Samandriel cursing as he tried to turn the coach around. Sliding over to the other side, Dean looked out and saw riders clad in black, their faces cloaked. He knew his guards were outnumbered.</p>
<p>Slowly the coach turned and then halted halfway. Dean heard a thump. The horses whinnied and he heard the clash of swords; people shouting. </p>
<p>“Samandriel!” Dean shouted over the clamor to be heard but the coach was not moving. </p>
<p>Suddenly the door flew open and Dean stared at a dark-clad man. The man went to draw his sword but Dean was faster. He bent down and grabbed his blade – hidden near his thigh – and aimed it at the tissue near the throat. His aim was true and he pushed, feeling the give of soft flesh.</p>
<p>A gush of warm blood sprayed over him but Dean ignored it, grabbed his blade and shoved at the man. Finally, the way was clear and Dean jumped down to the ground. He went close to the horses and hurriedly unfastened a horse. It was not a warhorse but he had to do. </p>
<p>Wiping some of the blood off his face, Dean looked to his right. Most of the fighting was ahead of the coach but Dean looked back and saw more soldiers closing in. He knew he was a capable fighter and he could fight three, maybe four soldiers but didn't have any illusions of fighting off ten soldiers. </p>
<p>His father's words reluctantly rang in his ears about the importance of the treaty. His death would lead to the death of thousands. With a curse, Dean looked to the sides, away from the road.</p>
<p>The nearest way to escape was to just ride into the woods and hopefully evade the soldiers. Most of them seemed to be involved in the fighting anyway. </p>
<p>A hand grabbed at his shoulder and turned him around. “What are you standing here for? On the horse and go. I'll be your shield.” Cain's chain mail was stained with blood but he grinned like a madman.</p>
<p>Dean grabbed his blade but Cain shook his head. “You're the heir of the kingdom. No fighting for you, your Highness.”</p>
<p>Dean recognized the wisdom in that, the <i>protocol</i> – even though he'd just contemplated doing the opposite – but hearing it from Cain of all people irked him. He barely had time to climb on the horse before Cain slapped its rear and Dean rode off.</p>
<p>He saw the thickness of the forest and aimed for the nearest tree, whatever brought him away from the main road and the raiders. As the horse rode on – the trees surrounding him and the thick canopy providing good shelter – Dean allowed himself to feel triumph. </p>
<p>He was not convinced that that raid had been happenstance and as much as he loathed it, he needed to get in touch with his father and warn him. Dean's absence in Angelus would be seen as a new declaration of war.</p>
<p>A sharp pain erupted in his side, catching Dean off guard. He fumbled with the reins as his horse swerved to the right to avoid the arrow whooshing past him. Dean was not so lucky and didn't avoid the huge branch stretching out. It caught him in the middle of his stomach and Dean exhaled sharply as the force knocked him off his horse.</p>
<p>The jolt as he landed on hard earth, made his jaw hurt as his teeth clamped shut but all he could feel was the pain in his side. It was soon outmatched as a pounding in Dean's head overtook him. He reached back and felt wetness in his hair; his fingers coming back sticky with blood. Dean turned around, finding purchase in the ground among rocks, grass, and sticks. </p>
<p>His horse was just a few steps away. Dean swayed but concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. Each step exacerbated the sharp sting in his side but he was close, so close.</p>
<p>Suddenly a darkness shrouded the woods. Dean looked up in surprise to the sharp sting of sun rays in his eyes. He blinked once and felt his feet give way. Collapsing on the ground, his world turned black.</p>
<p>*</p>
<p>The man was still passed out as he lay across the horse's back. Castiel worried about his horse. Butter was a workhorse and worked in his fields but carrying an unconscious man in the thick of the forest was something else entirely. If his horse broke a leg, it would be disastrous. Still, he couldn't leave the man to his demise.</p>
<p>Castiel had stopped once and slapped the man but he'd made no signs of life. He was breathing, that much Castiel knew and he wanted to stop and attend to the man's wounds but the sight of soldiers fighting told him that it wasn't a wise idea.</p>
<p>The woods were old and Castiel was older. A brief smile came over his lips. He wasn't that old by the looks of it but most of the people in the village deemed him so, due to his peculiar ways. Not that Castiel thought he was particularly peculiar. He just did things differently based on observations. </p>
<p>His smile fell as he took in the lifeless body strapped to his horse. He urged Butter on with a gentle press of his heels and guided her on the unseen path to his home. </p>
<p>Castiel's home was difficult to find even in good conditions, deep in the woods but as they journeyed home the clouds broke open and rain poured down on them. He was grateful because it erased the scent   the search dogs needed and knowing these woods – and he did know them very well – the rain would continue until even the evidence of horse hooves on the soft ground would be erased.</p>
<p>Still, when Castiel saw the familiar sight of his house, wood and straw and stone, he breathed out in relief. He pulled the stranger down and hooked his own arms underneath his. The man was heavy and Castiel pulled him a few steps until he was out of the rain. </p>
<p>He let him rest there for the time it took him to put Butter in the stable. He didn't bother to close the door, but quickly wiped her down and gave her some leftover pieces of carrot.</p>
<p>When Castiel came back to the man, he hadn't moved an inch. Castiel frowned, grabbed a hold of the man, and dragged him inside. </p>
<p>He removed the man's boots, absentmindedly noting the quality of soft leather and the intricate embroidery. Then he preceded to drag the man into his bed.</p>
<p>He shed of his wet cloak, letting it pool at the floor before turning the man on his side. A patch of his ivory tunic – it was made of the highest quality, smooth and again embroidered – was stained dark. Castiel knew he had to address that wound quickly but first, he had to remove the wet clothes. It would do little if he patched up his wound, only for him to die from a cold.</p>
<p>Castiel ran to his shelf and grabbed a wooden box and a clay jar. Returning, he ripped the man's tunic open around the dark blotch and opened the clay jar. He swiped two fingers inside and spread the cream on the man's injury. Then he opened the lid to the box and pulled out a huge, dry leaf that he crushed with one hand and sprinkled on top of the wound. He pressed his hand determinedly on the gaping hole.</p>
<p>The man jumped underneath his hand, his body trembling and he moaned softly, before settling again. Castiel ripped the rest of his tunic apart, pulling it away. His hands moved to the man's belt, unbuckling it and he grabbed the man's pants, pulling down. It was a struggle to get the wet fabric off him and he cursed the man for his thick calves but eventually, he was as nude as the day he was born. </p>
<p>Castiel's eyes roamed quickly over the man's body but he didn't notice any wounds that were more pressing. He ran over to the shelf, grabbed some more jars, and picked up a wool blanket. Before he returned to the stranger, he grabbed another piece of wood and fed the flames of the fireplace.</p>
<p>Tossing the blanket over the man, he hoped he'd be warm soon enough. The fireplace hadn't died down while he was away and the house had preserved the heat fairly well. </p>
<p>“Can you hear me?”</p>
<p>The man didn't answer but Castiel thought his eyes fluttered. He turned the man's head to the side and cursed when his hand came away wet with blood. “You're full of surprises, aren't you?” Castiel carded his hands through the man's hair until he found the spot. He sighed in relief when he found it to be superficial.</p>
<p>He dabbed at the wound with a wet cloth, tossed it to the floor and grabbed a small pouch. Carefully, he pulled out the snail and grabbed a thinner cloth. Rubbing the snail gently on the cloth, he folded the piece of fabric into a square and pressed it onto the wound. With his other hand, he grabbed some long stripes of linen and wrapped them around the man's head. He was pleased when it didn't turn red.</p>
<p>Next, Castiel turned his attention to the wound on the side. His previous care was only to stabilize him so he wouldn't bleed out. Now he needed to heal him properly. Carefully, he placed his hands on the man's skin. His body was covered in light freckles, most of them almost blending with his skin. He pressed on the man's legs and stomach, searching for anything that screamed of broken bones or bleeding inside the body.</p>
<p>He found nothing. Carefully, he brushed away the dry leaves and took a cloth to wipe away some dry blood.</p>
<p>The man jolted and his eyes flashed open, anger marring his face. “Stop that – hurts.”</p>
<p>Castiel couldn't help the smile that came to him. “I know and I'm sorry. But it's a good thing.”</p>
<p>“Me hurting?” The man moved slowly and tried turning to the side but stopped with a grimace. His body was covered in sweat and Castiel could feel his temperature climbing higher.</p>
<p>“No, I mean that you're awake. That's a good thing. What's your name?”</p>
<p>The man looked at Castiel, eyes still narrowed in suspicion. He turned silent as if debating something internally. Finally, he spoke. “Dean, I'm Dean.”</p>
<p>“Dean, nice to meet you. Although I wish it was under different circumstances.” He smiled briefly and noticed that Dean was staring at him. The green of his eyes were startling, even in the relative darkness of the house. “Yes?”</p>
<p>“How bad is it? I mean, I know it's bad but if I'm dying I'd be very grateful if you could postpone it to two days from now. I need to be somewhere.” He raised his head and twisted trying to get a look at his wound.</p>
<p>Castiel put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him down gently. “You really shouldn't be moving, not right now at least. Further movements could aggravate the wound and I need to take a look and make sure that it's clean.”</p>
<p>Dean's hand suddenly gripped his wrist tightly. ”Just a few hours, then I'm going.” He slumped back down in the bed. “Thank you.”</p>
<p>“You should thank Butter.”</p>
<p>“Butter? Who in the Gods' names is Butter?”</p>
<p>Castiel moved his hands over the wound on the side. It looked red and angry. He pressed a finger at the edge of the redness.</p>
<p>Dean screamed and was on his way up when Castiel pushed him down again. “I'm sorry but I needed to assess how sore you are.”</p>
<p>“I'm very sore.” Dean glanced around the room. “You don't have any ale or beer around here?”</p>
<p>“I have water.”</p>
<p>“You have water... Will it help me take the edge of this pounding in my side?”</p>
<p>Castiel shook his head. “No, but it will quench your thirst. And Butter is my horse.”</p>
<p>“You named your horse Butter? Horses named Butter and only water.” Dean paused. “You're seriously telling me you don't even have watered down ale?”</p>
<p>“It clouds the senses. Now, hold on to the sides of the bed, please.” Castiel glanced at Dean's wrists. He looked strong. His eyes roamed over his body and injured as he was, Castiel couldn't deny that Dean's body held a certain appeal.</p>
<p>“Fine.” Dean grabbed the sides and held on tightly.</p>
<p>Castiel exhaled and breached the hole with his finger. </p>
<p>Dean screamed, bucking up.</p>
<p>Castiel could see that Dean's knuckles were turning white and he worked as fast as he could but he needed to be thorough. Any residual wood, small splinters, or metal from the arrow being left in the wound could lead to infection and death. Satisfied that nothing was stuck in the wound, Castiel pulled out and grabbed a small vial of alcohol.</p>
<p>Breathing quickly, Dean glanced at the bottle, willing his body to relax. Castiel could see it in the way he forced himself to calm down and take slow, measured breaths. </p>
<p>“What's that?” His voice was gruff.</p>
<p>“Alcohol for the wound on your head, Dean. No debris are left in the gash though. This will heal nicely as long as you give it proper time and don't move around too much. I just need to clean and stitch it.”</p>
<p>“Well, that ain't happening. I... have to be somewhere, very soon. And I thought you didn't have beer or ale.”</p>
<p>“For drinking no, for healing, yes.” Castiel grabbed another cloth and soaked it in the alcohol. “Lift your head and lay down on this. It will aid in the healing process.”</p>
<p>Dean narrowed his eyes, not moving.</p>
<p>Castiel sighed at the stubborn look. “I would think your life is more important than being somewhere, your Highness.”</p>
<p>Dean froze for a second before he practically jumped out of bed. </p>
<p>Castiel would have been impressed by his prowess if he wasn't worried for Dean's wellbeing. “I understand you're fearful but it's not wise to be up and moving about. You just woke up and the – “</p>
<p>“I don't know about that. There's a time for the wisdom and a time for the fool. My inkling is that I'm doing the wise thing right now.” Dean glanced at his clothes and realized that he was naked. “Fuck...”</p>
<p>A smile tugged at Castiel's lips before he turned serious. “Please, Dean, you might feel fine now but you've lost a lot of blood and you need to rest, for a few hours at least. Besides, what are you gonna do? You have no sword, no clothes. Soldiers are probably out looking for you still.”</p>
<p>“I have a sword!” Dean swayed on his feet.</p>
<p>Castiel lurched forward and caught Dean just before he fell to the ground. He grabbed him under his arms and groaned as he pulled Dean back into bed. Not only was he dealing with a stubborn, but he was also dealing with stubborn </p>
<p><i>royalty</i>. “I can see that, unfortunately, it's not the sharp kind of sword.”</p>
<p>A few seconds later, Dean Winchester, prince of Laren, opened his eyes again. “I won't let you kill me.”</p>
<p>“Well, now I have to comply,” Cas quipped but he was bend over Dean, a hand over his heart. His breathing was a tad shallow but it seemed his foolish actions hadn't jeopardized his health too much.</p>
<p>“They will find me you know.”</p>
<p>Castiel took Dean's hand. His nails were short and trimmed and his hand – although being calloused from handling the sword – was clean and soft. He turned Dean's hand over. “This marks you as royalty, Dean.” He pointed at the floor. “Your tunic marks you as royalty, all those embroideries mark you as royalty. Your shoes of the finest leather mark you as royalty. I knew you were the prince as soon as I saved you. Don't you think that if I wanted you dead, you'd be dead by now?”</p>
<p>Dean licked his lips. “Maybe you're just toying with me, like a cat playing with a mouse?”</p>
<p>Castiel chuckled. “I'm hardly a cat. And if I were, I'd not have time for games. You'd be minced mouse flesh by now.”</p>
<p>“It's high treason just thinking about killing the royal family, you know.” Dean grabbed the covers and pulled them up.</p>
<p>Castiel swallowed. If Dean was experiencing the sweats, things had gone from bad to worse. “I think to let the royal prince die when I could have prevented it would count as high treason too, don't you agree?”</p>
<p>Dean shook his head but Castiel didn't miss the slight tremble that went through Dean's frame. “You bring up a good point. That's a law too. Supposedly.” He paused slightly. “Sorry.  Everything is a bit hazy but you're right, you have helped me a lot.”</p>
<p>“Covered my tracks so those people hunting you won't find you. Or me.”</p>
<p>Dean cleared his throat. “I appreciate it.”</p>
<p>Castiel just hummed. He grabbed his small pouch again and gently picked up a snail. “Be still please.”</p>
<p>“Hold on, now just wait. I ain't letting you put that thing anywhere near me.”</p>
<p>Time passed differently for ones such as Castiel and he knew that what was once memory became legend and faded into myth. With enough time, even myths were forgotten. But snails were still common practice in the healing arts. “It's not much different than a leech. I'm sure they've feasted on your royal blood, no?”</p>
<p>“It's a snail, Cas. What the hell is it going to do? Slime me?”</p>
<p>“For being royalty, your mouth is quite foul.” Castiel had seen worse from the lords and ladies in Angelus but he figured if he kept Dean talking, he wouldn't pay attention to what his hands were doing. Besides, Dean had a pleasant voice. It brought Cas comfort to hear another being talk. Most of the time – when he wasn't practicing the healing arts in the villages nearby – he was alone. Having this radiant presence in his house, had reminded him of how alone he was at times and how much he enjoyed company.</p>
<p>“The snails have their properties,” Castiel spoke matter of factly.</p>
<p>Dean sounded skeptical. “What's that supposed to mean?”</p>
<p>“Do you have any idea of why you were ambushed? I couldn't help but notice that you traveled on route to Angelus.” Castiel squeezed the snail gently, encouraging it to produce more mucus.</p>
<p>“I can guess, yes. I was... I </p>
<p><i>am</i> on my way to Angelus to sign a treaty with Michael. It's an agreement that will stop these incessant skirmishes and fights over the border. Enough people have died and if I can save one Larenian, let alone thousands upon thousands from unnecessary death, that's a good thing. If I don't show up, Michael will think I broke the terms. My kingdom will plunge into war again and I can't have that. I </p>
<p><i>will</i> not have that.”</p>
<p>“What about your life?”</p>
<p>“If I die, the kingdom will be fine. I have a brother, Sam. He's younger, just over twenty but wise beyond his years. If I know the complexities of the treaty like the back of my hand, then he will learn them too if necessary.” Dean paused, grimacing as a wave of pain washed over him. “And besides, my life is nothing compared to the lives of the people, of Laren itself. What is a king without anyone to rule over?”</p>
<p>Castiel arched one eyebrow as he turned the snail over. Dean was stubborn to a fault it seemed. “A dead king can't rule.”</p>
<p>“Trust me, my father will be furious if I die. But he also wishes I was dead.” Dean chuckled as if he was making a grand joke.</p>
<p>“Fathers are a fickle kind. But you won't die under my watch, Dean. Now. Allow me to clean you.”</p>
<p>Dean licked his lips. “I don't know...”</p>
<p>Castiel sighed. He had a feeling he needed to be gentle in his persuasion with Dean. “Here.” He tossed his bottle to him.</p>
<p>“The alcohol?” Dean was suspicious but uncorked it nonetheless. </p>
<p>As royalty, he could never be too careful but Castiel suspected that was not the reason why Dean was sniffing the contents. </p>
<p>Finally, Dean took a swig and coughed. “Holy mother of Gods, this is some strong stuff. How – why are you not drinking this?”</p>
<p>“The higher the level of purity in the alcohol, the greater it helps in cleaning wounds. While I did once drink a cup or two, I prefer it to aid others.”</p>
<p>Dean shivered and shook his head. “I'll take it. No need for the damned snails.”</p>
<p>Castiel sat down next to Dean and put down the snail. Just to be safe he wiped himself off, before taking one of Dean's hands. The weight of his hands felt good in Castiel's own. </p>
<p>Dean trembled again.</p>
<p>Castiel caressed his palm, feeling a surge of something go through him. He stoved it away; he didn't have time to examine his feelings right now. “You're hot.”</p>
<p>“That is just me, Cas, you have nothing to worry about.” Dean chuckled as another tremor went through him. </p>
<p>Absentmindedly, Castiel continued stroking Dean's hand. “If you want to make it to that treaty of yours, your Highness, I need to take a look at that wound. Snails and all. You have to trust me. I know what I'm doing.”</p>
<p>Dean sigh turned into a moan of pain as another, stronger shiver went through him. “Your Highness, mm? You trying to compliment me into submission?”</p>
<p>“Oh, I have no illusions that I'll sweet-tongue you into that. But your stubbornness will kill you. Do you want that for yourself? Forget the people, I'm talking about the prince of Laren, the heir to the throne, the one that does right by his people. Not because it's some royal obligation but because it's the right thing to do.” </p>
<p>Dean was quiet for a moment, then nodded to himself. “You're right, do your thing. It's not like they're poisonous.”</p>
<p>Castiel stared at him while grabbing his snail.</p>
<p>“They're not poisonous, right?”</p>
<p>“No. I'll put two in. Your wound is not that big, so more are not necessary.” He made a motion to move but Dean grabbed his hand. “Thank you.”</p>
<p>Castiel smiled. “You're welcome, Dean. Now, while they are in you, please stay still. Turn on your side, face the wall.”</p>
<p>Dean complied but still tried to look back at Castiel. </p>
<p>“The wall, Dean. If the snails fall out, your wound will not be clean enough. I don't want to stitch you up with all kinds of dirt in you.”</p>
<p>“Some dirty inside me is good”, Dean mumbled as he turned, “but snails ain't it.” Still, Dean turned.</p>
<p>Castiel grabbed his snail again and gently pulled the wound open. Dean hissed but stayed still. Slowly, he placed it inside the wound. When he was satisfied it was in there, he reached for another. Dean had gone quiet and after putting in the second snail, Castiel stroked his shoulder. “How are you doing?”</p>
<p>“This is nothing like leeches, holy fuck. You should have tied me up. Right now, I have the urge to dig my fingers in there and rip those slimy creatures out myself.”</p>
<p>Castiel placed a soothing hand on his shoulder. “Relax, Dean. Just give them some time, and then I'll remove them and stitch you up.”</p>
<p>“I have never been more eager for a needle and thread in my life.” Dean shuddered again. “I don't feel better, I feel worse.”</p>
<p>“Trust me.”</p>
<p>“I let you put snails inside my body. I think we're past the trust-level!”</p>
<p>Castiel felt the tension in Dean's body, and started stroking his shoulder. Dean didn't say anything but Castiel could feel how Dean relaxed against him. He went further down, his fingers caressing his arm before going back up. “Does this help?”</p>
<p>Dean hummed in response.</p>
<p>They sat like that for a while. </p>
<p>Dean broke the silence. “Nice craftmanship on the wall, Cas. It looks smooth. You made the house yourself or did your snails help you?”</p>
<p>Castiel chuckled. “Thank you, Dean, but that was all me. Now, we're done. Stay like this and I'll remove them.” He wiped his hands on a piece of cloth and gently took out the snails again. He placed them in another container and grabbed needle and thread before attending to Dean again. </p>
<p>“You're not gonna poke me again.”</p>
<p>“Not with the snails, no.” Castiel threaded the needle, before dousing it in the alcohol. “If you need to hold onto something, grab onto the bed. Oh, I almost forgot. Chew on this.” He pulled out a leaf from his pocket and crumpled it into a ball.</p>
<p>Dean was hesitant. “I don't know... what is this?”</p>
<p>“Do I need to repeat the conversation we had about death, and how if I wanted to kill you, I'd have ample time before?”</p>
<p>“I don't know. You might enjoy torturing royal princes. Maybe all of this is for your amusement.”</p>
<p>Castiel arched an eyebrow, serious when he spoke. “Maybe.”</p>
<p>Dean grumbled and opened his mouth. “Gimme that ball of salad.” He closed his mouth around the leaf.</p>
<p>“You can bite it. It will help against the pain.”</p>
<p>When Castiel pierced Dean's skin, Dean shivered but didn't make any other outward sign of feeling the needle. “I will continue now.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, go ahead. I can feel it but hell, this is better than the herbs the royal healers use. I need to bring some of that green stuff with me home.”</p>
<p>Castiel didn't say anything but concentrated on stitching Dean up. Now and then he had to remind Dean to relax as he tensed up involuntarily but soon he tightened the last stitch and tied it off. “It will feel tense for a while but it should hold.”</p>
<p>Dean let out a sigh and turned back awkwardly. “So when can I be back on a horse?”</p>
<p>Castiel narrowed his eyes.</p>
<p>“No reason to pout Cas, I did everything you told me to. I'm very grateful, I am, but I need to go as soon as possible.” He almost sounded pleading. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I want you to rest, four hours of sleep and then you can leave.”</p>
<p>“Four hours! That's – “</p>
<p>“Way less then I'd like you to have to recuperate but I know that you have some time before the treaty starts. That way you're giving your body a chance to heal and realign itself. You will feel tired after this.”</p>
<p>Dean licked his lips as if contemplating an answer but Castiel knew that he really didn't have any choice.</p>
<p>“Fine, four hours and you wake me up.”</p>
<p>Castiel nodded.</p>
<p>“I will need Butter, and my clothes back.”</p>
<p>“You're planning to steal my horse after I've helped you?”</p>
<p>Red tinted Dean's cheeks. “No.” He sighed. “Fine, can I please borrow Butter? I have an important treaty to attend.”</p>
<p>“She'll bite your hand off if you touch her. But not to worry, I'll come with you. The people that wanted to harm you are still out there.”</p>
<p>Dean laughed but it was humorless. “I'm the prince of Laren. Everyone wants me dead. Even those that should know better.”</p>
<p>“I've worked hard for you to stay alive. I wouldn't want a stray arrow or a thoughtless noble to succeed in killing you.”</p>
<p>Shaking his head, Dean changed position slowly and leaned his back gingerly against the mattress again. “All the Angelus' nobles will be there to watch the treaty being signed. Nothing to worry about.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I wasn't talking about them.</p>
<p><i>You</i> are the thoughtless noble, Dean.”</p>
<p>“If you hadn't just saved my life, I'd kill you. It's high treason to insult royalty,” Dean muttered as he pulled on his blankets. </p>
<p>“How is your pain? You need another leaf?”</p>
<p>“No. I'm tired but... fine.” Dean sounded surprised.</p>
<p>“Rest, Dean. There'll be food when you wake. And then I'll accompany you to Angelus.”</p>
<p>He could see that Dean wanted to object but the invitation for sleep was too much. Dean relaxed, closed his eyes and soon Castiel saw his body go limp as sleep took him.</p>
<p>Castiel continued to look at Dean as he slept. </p>
<p>It was strange being around Dean. Castiel had been alive for long, so long that even the promise of life eternal felt like a death sentence. Everything that had used to bring him joy had become dull, a muted color that saturated the world until he lost interest in the world itself. He did heal people but more out of a sense of duty than any real love for them.</p>
<p>But within a few hours, Dean had managed to wake something up. A growing appreciation and love for the world as it was and a curiosity to explore it and humanity again. </p>
<p>Dean had awakened something.</p>
<p>Castiel left Dean's bed and walked over to a chest. He knelt down, pushed the chest away, and removed a loose plank on the floor. Bending down, he grabbed the vial that he had stashed away in what now felt like another lifetime.</p>
<p>The vial was no bigger than his palm, round, and made of glass. It shone with an eerie, blue glow, almost swirling inside its glass prison. Castiel looked at it, his thoughts swirling inside his mind, just like his grace did. </p>
<p>Something settled inside him, a decision that he didn't examine too closely. Instead, he acted.</p>
<p>With a flick of his thumb, he opened the cork to the vial and placed it against his lips. He inhaled deeply and watched as his grace came back to him, settling inside him again.</p>
<p>He closed his eyes as it took hold. His fingers gripped at the planks and he bent down his head as power flooded through him.</p>
<p>Opening his eyes again, they flashed blue with grace.</p>
<p>Dean had managed to awake the angel Castiel again.</p>
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